There was a time when I lived to write. Now I write for a living. It should have been a good thing, except for a long time, I’ve allowed myself to lose the joy I once had in writing.

True, I still have to spend quite a bit of time writing for payment, but I have made a promise to myself that I will also go back to writing just for the sake of it.

As many of you already know (due to my constant harping about it, of course), I started reading at age 2, and 10 years later decided to write my own reading material. Hey, if you want something done just right, you gotta go and do it yourself, no?

For some time I wrote almost compulsively. I was also a perfectionist, so many are the stories I simply crumpled and burned because they just did not seem right. It took a while before I was ever able to share my work with anyone.

And then the internet happened. About 2005, I finally started to show off my work on online forums, I started with writing.com, moved to thesop.org, author.com, and several others, came home to kenyaimagine.com, and finally set up my own home here at jmaruru.wordpress.com.

Here, I have shared my rambling on life, relationships, Kenya… even dared let you read part of my works in progress. But that frenzied scribbling I use to love has left me. I must now woo her back, tempt her with everything I’ve got, seduce her, convince her to move in with me again.

If you want I can let you share my courtship with the written word. Every Monday, for the next few weeks, I’ll post the first sentence of my short story inside a post. You can either wait for me to finish my story, or write your own ending and hope it is better than mine.

I’ll be happy to read your version, all you have to do is post it on your blog or in your Facebook notes. Then comment on my Monday Fiction Prompt Post, with a short excerpt. When you fill in your name and email, be sure to place the link to you piece in the ‘website’ section. I’ll follow that link, and if I like your ending, I will feature it over here at my house.

So seeing that I’ve come this far, here’s my first sentence for this week’s short story.

The steady tap-tap of a leaking faucet intruded into her thoughts every other minute. 

Well, bring it!